


Mine

by Enochianess



Series: Gallavich Week 2015 [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, GW2015, Gallavich Week, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure Mickey, Kink Exploration, Love Bites, M/M, Marking, Possessive Ian, Possessive Sex, Smut, possessive mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:17:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enochianess/pseuds/Enochianess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gallavich Week - Day 2: Lets get kinky</p><p>Mickey was used to leaving marks on people.<br/>It should have come as no surprise then, when he discovered how much he needed to mark Ian too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

Mickey was used to leaving marks on people. Cuts. Bruises. Scars. On the outside and on the inside. He hurt people. It was what he knew. 

His dad had always said that it was important to leave a clear message. Someone doesn't play by the rules, doesn't pay up when they're supposed to, you make an example of them. You make sure nobody else tries stepping out of line. You mark them. It's a warning more than anything else. A stamp to say,  _I messed with the Milkoviches and I shouldn't have._ It says,  _If you try this, they'll do this to you too._

It should have come as no surprise then, when he discovered how much he needed to mark Ian too. He needed to mark him, to show all the fucking queens at the club that he belonged to someone, that they should keep their fucking hands away from his cock. Mickey felt the overwhelming urge to  _possess._ He wanted everyone to know that Ian was Mickey's, that only Mickey was allowed to touch him and kiss him and fuck him. It was driving him fucking crazy, making him feel sick at just the thought of all the faggots slipping money into the god damn sparkly shorts, hoping they'd be the lucky one to take him home for the night. There was no way in hell they were getting their fat, podgy, old-man hands on Ian's cock. Only Mickey could do that. Only Mickey.

He was pretty sure Ian knew. Ian always had a way of figuring these things out about him. It made him antsy, embarrassed. 

What was worse though, was just how badly Mickey wanted to be  _marked._

There was something exciting about walking around on the South Side with bruises beneath his clothing. Marks left by Ian's mouth on his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his thighs. Finger shaped bruises pressed into the juts of his hipbones from where Ian had grasped him tightly as he pounded into him over and over and over. Mickey's skin was like a map, a trail of Ian's doting affections, his lustful energy, his pleasure. He hated himself for it, but whenever he got a moment alone, Mickey would trail his fingers over the patches he knew were mottled with purple and black, gasping at the sharp pain of it, the sharp pleasure of it. 

Ian had figured out how much Mickey liked that too. When Mickey was close, a litany of  _ah, ah, ah's_ mixed in with Ian's name falling uncontrollably from his lips, all Ian had to do was press down on one of the still fresh marks and Mickey would be coming so hard he'd sometimes black out. 

Once he'd worked out just how much it turned him on, Ian was sure to spend time marking Mickey. Whether they were fucking hard and fast and rough, or slow and deep and measured, he'd slave over Mickey's torso, biting and sucking and licking and kissing. Mickey would never admit it, but he needed to be treasured, worshipped. He needed the attention, someone to praise him and claim him as their own. He'd spent his whole life hiding who he was, hating himself for not being who his dad wanted him to be, and he needed someone to take that sting away, to comfort him. He needed to feel  _wanted._ And he was. Fuck, he was.

Ian snapped his hips forwards, thrusting at a bruising pace. Mickey's hands twisted in the sheets beneath him, his knuckles white from how tightly he gripped them. Ian had him pinned to the mattress, completely trapped and unable to move. It was fucking awesome. There was nothing he loved more than relinquishing all his control, giving over to Ian entirely. It was the one point in the day when he could just  _let go._ He didn't have to be the big, bad, thug everyone in the neighbourhood knew him to be. He didn't need to act tough or strong. He didn't need to pretend to be anything. He could just be Mickey.

"I'm gonna- Ian, I'm gonna-" He muttered breathlessly, his brows furrowing as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable height.

"Yeah." Ian grunted in reply, his teeth sinking into the muscle of Mickey's shoulder.

And that was all it took. Mickey cried out, his body tensing and shaking with the force of his orgasm. He was sure Ian had broken the skin, but he didn't care. God, he didn't care one fucking bit. He hoped it would scar. Hell, he hoped it would scar and never fade. 

"You're mine." Ian groaned, stilling as he was pushed over the edge too, his nails digging sharply into Mickey's waist. "Mine."

"Yeah." Mickey murmured in reply. He reached back and knotted his fingers in the red hair, tugging sharply to make sure Ian was paying attention. "I'm yours."

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to contact me: http://enochianess.tumblr.com


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